


Like Tears in the Rain

by TanyaReed



Series: Megan [3]
Category: Relic Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written sometime around 2006/2007.  It's a prologue to the Megan stories.  I've never been exactly satisfied with the ending, but I hope you like the story.</p>
<p>Sydney visits her mom's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Tears in the Rain

It was the first time he had ever seen her cry.

Nigel knew she couldn't see him as he stood there in the fading dusk watching her. Between the rain and the dark shadow cast by the small caretaker's hut, he was nearly invisible. His body froze in shock, and he stopped and stared. She had never looked more vulnerable—or more beautiful.

Sydney knelt in the mud in front of a gray and weathered stone. Its only splash of color came from the bouquet of fresh flowers that rested on its curved top.

Rain dripped from the relic hunter's face and mingled with the tears that came from her eyes. If not for the soft shaking of her body, Nigel might have thought the tears were a trick of the rain. He had seen Sydney in rage and frustration, joy and passion (though not towards him), cunning and bravery, but the closest to crying he had ever seen her was when she discovered she had hated a man for years for something he didn't do. Even then, her face hadn't been filled with such naked pain.

Nigel continued to stand there, wondering if he should go back and give her her privacy. Knowing Sydney, she would not want anyone to see this moment of weakness.

As he finally turned to go, her voice floated to him. “It's all right, Nigel.”

He found himself moving towards her instead of slipping away. His eyes studied her with concern, and he wondered what he could do or say to make seeing this private moment okay. He felt worse than if he had walked in on her in the shower because he knew that physical nakedness meant nothing to Sydney. It was her inner self that she protected with a fierce kind of rage.

“When it started to rain,” he explained hesitantly, “...I...well, I thought...I mean, you didn't bring your jacket...I didn't....No intrusion was meant...I'm sorry, Syd.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes still leaking tears. She did not seem angry, and she made no move to wipe the tears away. Instead, she reached a hand up to him.

Surprised, Nigel took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. Sydney gave him a slight tug, and he let himself sink to her side.

The ground beneath him was wet, and he felt it immediately soak through his pants to the skin. He ignored this, knowing they would dry. What was important was sitting here beside his friend and looking at the stone that had caused her brief lowering of defenses. 

It was a simple stone, though hearts had been carved on it, along with the words, “Loving mother and gentle wife. We will never forget.”

After several long moments, Sydney spoke. “I haven't been here for a long time. When I see it, I remember how much I miss her.”

Since his left hand was still clasped tightly in her right, he used his other one to gently rub her bare arm. Though the rain was warm, her skin was still a bit chilled. It made him want to take off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. But to do that, he'd have to let her go.

At his touch, Sydney glanced at him, and a very faint smile came to her face. It wasn't quite enough to dimple her cheeks, but it was enough to bring some light back to her eyes.

“The thing about rain, Nigel,” she said softly, “is that it allows us to be ourselves. It allows us to play; it allows us to release our inhibitions; it allows us to relax; and sometimes, it allows us to cry. It's a wonderful thing. When it rains, everything becomes new. Things start to grow, and the world is cleansed. Tears aren't really tears in the rain. They are washed away and become raindrops in their own right.”

Nigel raised an eyebrow at her, and Sydney suddenly laughed. The sound was short and joyful, belying the water that dripped off the end of her nose. She turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. Her soft but callused hand still held his, and her thumb began to caress his fingers.

Sydney let the rain wash over her face, obliterating all traces of tears. When she turned to Nigel once more, her moment of vulnerability was gone, and it was his own familiar Sydney that faced him.

“It's getting a bit chilly,” she said, finally releasing his hand.

“Yes,” he answered. “Here, take my jacket.”

“Then you'll be as wet as I am.”

He waved this away. “I'm English. I'm used to rain ten times colder than this.”

Nigel stripped off his jacket and held it out to her. Sydney hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took it.

“Okay, but don't blame me if you get a cold.”

She hauled herself to her feet and offered him her hand. He let her help him up, then watched as her long fingers reached out to briefly caress her mother's headstone.

“It rained on the day of her funeral,” she said quietly.

Nigel looked at her sharply, but her face was calm and controlled.

“That's when I learned how to cry in the rain.”

“Sometimes we all need to cry,” slipped out unbidden.

She studied him, her eyes probing deep into his soul. “Do you cry, Nigel?”

He couldn't meet her questioning gaze, so he dropped his eyes to his shoes. When he didn't answer, she threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. His own arm drifted up to settle at her waist, and he returned the embrace.

In silence, the two of them started towards the hotel, and he wondered if she would resent him for what he'd seen. It didn't seem like it. Instead, Sydney seemed grateful to have someone to share the moment with. He wondered how many people had actually seen her with nothing left to hide. He knew the number had to be small, and he felt honoured to be among the select few.


End file.
